Conversation

"Suppose a day, ordinary, normal. Suppose a Saturday in April.
Feel a butterfly land, for the very first time, upon your waiting hand, quietly, with such fragile, aching grace.
Suppose a moment when we stood outside of time.
When something came and held us firmly in place.
Suppose a day when there was time for standing still.
Suppose a time when we could choose to start again.
Suppose a silken, solitary season, full of light & time & longing, hung like feathers, in a planet-bright sky."